


Valentine Undone

by Flantastic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Arguing, Boys In Love, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: James thinks he’s made a mistake.  Q thinks James needs to trust him for once…
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 19
Kudos: 152





	Valentine Undone

**Author's Note:**

> I had a trawl through my WIP folder and thought I'd finally finish off this little ficlet. Only another 24 WIPs to go now...

He’s getting too old for this shit.

Not the missions. They’re still fine. Sure, his shoulder tweaks sometimes and he is really going to have to consider getting those reading glasses the optician insisted he needed at his last test, but he can still do his job. If truth be told, he probably does it better than anyone. Almost twenty years of experience is nothing to be sniffed at. M knows this which is why he doesn’t suggest Bond retire.

But maybe he should.

It’s the rigmarole of returning from a mission that does him in these days. The medical tests that he has to power through, no matter how bone-tired he is, lest someone thinks he’s past it.

It’s the debriefings with the staff in Operations and M himself. Hours of going over the minutiae of every action. Every decision. Every situation.

It’s the long-winded reports. Typed out laboriously despite the fact that these days, ninety-five percent of his missions are caught on camera.

And this. Handing what’s left of his kit back to Q. Seeing his beautiful young partner, his pretty boy, as he looks James up and down and sees the tiredness and the aches. Q seeing how spent he is and knowing that he’ll want to make it all better with a soft kiss but he can’t because of his professionalism.

This. This is what he’s far, far too old for.

He walks into Q’s branch and sees him at the far end of the room. He is talking to 002, Simon Smith. They are both laughing and Smith is waving his arms around, no doubt telling Q something amusing. Bond realises he has nothing amusing to say. He’s just spent ten days in Moscow, the city drab and foreboding under its mantle of snow. He has killed five men and a woman. The latter he strangled with his bare hands as she tried to gut him with a karambit, the curved blade slashing into his thigh before he could put her down. It’s not amusing and he doesn’t want to tell Q any of it. 

He abruptly turns to the person closest to him, a programmer who looks like he might still be a teenager. He unholsters his gun and places it on the man’s desk making him recoil slightly in fright.

“Give that to the quartermaster.” James mutters, and then he walks away.

~00Q~

He is sitting in gloom by the time he hears Q’s key in the front door. He is still dressed in his dirty, torn, bloodstained suit, a glass of Old Pulteney whiskey in his hand. He started drinking as soon as he got home and half of the bottle is gone now. He watches as Q turns on the light and then sighs as he sees James.

“There you are. What the hell James? What were you thinking? Scaring my staff like that?” He drops his laptop bag and a bag of shopping before he unwinds his scarf from around his neck and takes off his coat. He puts them both on the coat hook by the door. Toeing off his shoes he pads over, frowning in concern as James takes a large swallow of his booze. “Sweetheart?”

James looks away. He can’t bear it. The tenderness infused in that one word.

“We need to talk.” His voice is rough and close to breaking. James has sat and thought about what he was going to say for the past three hours but now the time has come he’s struggling to find the right words. He stares at his glass and takes a shuddering breath. “We need to stop doing this. Seeing each other.” Q doesn’t answer him so he ploughs on. “You’re so young. Too young to be tied to an old man like me. I was your first, I know, but I don’t deserve you. I never deserved you. You should be with someone your own age. Not tied to an ancient old relic like me who…”

He looks up and trails off when he sees that Q is standing with his arms crossed, a pissed-off expression on his face.

“I hate it when you do this.” He says flatly. “Let’s have this conversation in the morning when you haven’t been drinking.” He turns to go and James suddenly feels like he’s about to panic. He reaches out, his reactions not dimmed by the alcohol one bit, and grabs Q’s wrist. Q hisses as he’s jerked back. Okay, maybe James’s reactions have been affected a little as he realises that he’s used far more force than he meant to. Q tries to pull away and James lets him.

“For fuck’s sake James!” He snaps.

“I’m sorry. I should just go.”

“Go?” Q retorts. “Where? Where are you going to go James? You live here with me! Your life is with me! You need to stop doing this!”

“Doing what?” James asks, surprised at how angry Q is getting.

“This!” Q replies, almost shouting now and waving his arms around. “This… bullshit! This self-doubt! This self-pity! You come home from a mission and start acting like you’re not good enough for me. Like I’m some kind of fucking moron who you need to remove yourself from for my own good! Do you not believe me? Is that it? When I tell you that I’m happy and I love you, do you not believe me? What have I done to ever make you think that you’re not good enough for me?”

“It’s not you it’s…”

“I swear to God James, if you finish that sentence, I will have your fucking bollocks!” Q really is shouting now, furious and jabbing his finger at James. “And not in a good way!”

Despite everything, James spots the rapidly concealed smile that touches Q’s lips as he pauses and realises what he’s just said. He sighs and turns to head to the kitchen.

“I need a cup of tea.”

James picks up the whiskey bottle and follows him out. He finds Q standing by the kettle which is just beginning to warm up. Without a word, James pours the rest of the bottle away down the sink. It’s a useless gesture, they have plenty more booze in the house, but a symbolic one nevertheless.

“That’s your favourite.” Q says quietly.

“You’re my favourite.” James replies, stepping in close to pull Q into a hug. He tucks his face into the side of Q’s neck and kisses the warm skin there. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

They both know he’s not talking about the bruises that will spring up on Q’s wrist before morning. Q sighs and slips his fingers up into the back of James’s hair.

“You do this every time you come home from a bad mission and you need to stop it.” He grips James’s head gently with both hands and tries to move it back. “Look at me. _Look_ at me!” For a moment James doesn’t want to, he feels ashamed that he’s hurt Q again, but eventually he relents. Q’s gaze is searching, closely examining him before he eventually leans forward to kiss him gently. James closes his eyes, trembling at the tender way Q holds him. When they eventually break, Q still looking at him in the same way.

“I love you.” He says quietly. “I really do love you so much and you do so much for me. You help me when I’m stressed, make me eat when I forget, tell me when I’m working too hard… you take care of me… and yet the moment you falter… the moment you’re tired or injured or overwhelmed you try to push me away.” James doesn’t have an answer for that. He realises that Q is telling the truth and the truth hurts. “You need to stop it. Stop treating me like I’m something precious that needs to be protected and let me take care of you for a change.”

“You _are_ precious,” James mumbles, “and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“ _This_ hurts me. These threats to leave. This whole… making me feel inadequate. You have no idea. I know that you don’t. There’s no way you’d do this to me if you’d ever realised how much this hurts me.”

James feels an overwhelming sense of shame as Q pulls him in for another hug. Q’s right, he knows he is.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know darling.” Q soothes him, kissing the side of his face. “Do you think you could try relying on me for a change?” James nods. It feels strange to think about letting Q in. Seemingly reading James’s mind, he carries on; “Your problem is, you’re like a wounded animal. When you feel vulnerable your instinct is to retreat. You need to learn how to retreat into my arms.”

James tightens his grip on Q, suddenly unsure as to whether he’s going to laugh or cry. It sounds so silly. It is silly. James is the ultimate agent who can seemingly cope with any scenario except the one where he’s loved.

Q holds him for the longest time, smoothing circles over his back as James calms. Eventually he kisses his cheek.

“Go and get out of those clothes. Have a shower and I’ll cook us dinner.”

James nods and does as he’s told. He can be good at taking orders on occasions. He moves slowly, going upstairs to strip off and have a warm shower. The stiches on his thigh, given to him in Medical, sting as they become wet so he makes a point of drying them thoroughly and redressing them afterwards, aware of how disappointed Q would be in him if didn’t take care of them. He comes back downstairs to the smell of sautéed potatoes cooking. He walks into the kitchen to find Q has laid the table. There is a bottle of red wine, opened and acclimatising to the room and there is a vase with a single red rose in it. 

“What’s all this?” James asks.

Q turns around at the stove and smiles. He’s taken off his jumper and tie and untucked his shirt so he looks relaxed now. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day darling.”

James is crushed. He didn’t think. It hadn’t occurred to him what the date was. Q has always loved Valentine’s Day. Loved its cheesiness. The kitsch heart-shaped boxes of chocolates… the totally not anonymous, anonymous cards. The flowers… James had completely forgotten. He’d tried to dump Q on fucking Valentine’s Day. He takes half a step back.

“Oh no you don’t!” Q laughs gently as he walks over to him. “We’ve already agreed. No more self-flagellation James!” He reaches him and takes his hand. “You’ve already been a prick once today; can we please draw a line under it?” James lets him lead him over to the table and sit him down. “I called into work while you were showering. I’m taking tomorrow off. So, we’re going to eat our lovely dinner, drink wine and then have an early night because three-quarters of your problem right now is that you’re exhausted. Then, after you’ve rested, tomorrow morning… or afternoon if you sleep long enough… you’re going to give me my Valentine’s Day shag because I’ve missed you like fuck, and I’ve missed your cock even more. Is that okay?”

“More than you can ever know.” He admits.

“I’ll get the steaks on. I take it you want yours bloody?”

“You know me so well.”

“Fucking right I do.” Q says with a grin as he goes back to the stove. James sits and watches him as he starts to potter, cooking his dinner for him. Taking care of him.

James smiles.


End file.
